Sotto Voce
by Inkbleed
Summary: Lily Evans is a reclusive, shy 7th-year who remains an enigma to her classmates, especially the charismatic James Potter. He wants to ease her loneliness, but will she let him enter her life? (Chapter Six uploaded.)
1. Subsistence

**Chapter 1 - Subsistence__**

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

I give her sadness and the gift of pain,  
a new moon madness and a love of rain.  
- - - -Dorothy Parker "The Godmother"

"I cannot believe this. I'm being forced to pander you – you! – a _mutation_! Don't you dare begin to think I'll be your personal chauffeur, or that I'm doing this out of some sort of sisterly courtesy -- "  

Lily Evans didn't even bother to look at her sister. "Petunia, I don't think you've ever done anything out of courtesy, let alone anything that might have the word 'sisterly' ascribed to it." 

Petunia Evans' face went white with anger, and a muscle in her neck began to twitch. "How _dare_ you speak to me in such an impudent manner! I have put aside my day to drive you across the bloody country and you repay me by acting like the rude, spoiled brat that you are. Obviously they don't teach you manners at that godforsaken institution."

Lily sighed deeply. The argument with Petunia was an old one; Lily would go off to Hogwarts every year and Petunia would be incensed that she would have to drive. She didn't see how Petunia would fit into the role of a stay-at-home mum who ferried her child around to rugby games if she hated driving. Of course, Lily realized, it was probably a pretense that she kept up in the hope of weaseling out of driving duties.

The scenery was rather pleasant, and the rain coated the countryside with a moist sheen. The tarmac stretched out in front of the car, wet and dark in sharp contrast to the verdant pastures. When they had been younger, and relations between the two sisters had been slightly more amicable, Petunia told Lily that her eyes reminded her of the grass. It was Petunia's last and only compliment to her; now, if queried about Lily (especially out of earshot of their parents), Petunia was likely to claim that she was a plain but disturbed girl who attended a disciplinary school deep in the foothills of Scotland.

Relations between them had always been strained. Petunia resented that their parents lavished attention upon shy, quiet Lily, who, in Petunia's mind, had done nothing to deserve such admiration and love. Especially since by all accounts _Petunia_ should have been the favored child, the star of the Evans' household. After all, hadn't she been the one to achieve equilibrium in life, impart the enviable image of normalcy? It was Petunia who had done well at school, been outgoing and popular, had attracted a perfect suitor who was now her fiancé.

Instead, her parents smiled disinterestedly when she showed them her marks, nodded politely when she introduced them to Vernon Dursley (the love of her life, for heaven's sake!) and looked upon her with a vague sense of fondness and lukewarm enthusiasm.

Lily was the recipient of their affection, the one they showered with love and praise. What had Lily done? Oh yes, gotten an invitation to attend some barbaric school in the backwoods of who-knows-where and learn _magic_. That's when things truly took a turn for the worse between them. 

The look of warmth they reserved for Lily intensified into a gleam of adoration, and they were thrilled that their withdrawn youngest daughter was a witch. Petunia took the negative connotation of the word to heart, and treated Lily with the same contempt mingled with fear that "those of her ilk deserved." But Lily's parents were her saving grace – they poured so much love into her that it quite nearly made up for Petunia's open hostility and her peers' impassive disregard.

Nearly, but not quite. Her shyness, which had certainly not been an asset at primary school, turned out to be positively devastating at Hogwarts. She had faded into a mere shadow, which was actually quite a remarkable feat, especially in Gryffindor House, which prided itself on a sense of family. She quickly realized that no one wanted to befriend the timid first year who spoke little but with grandiloquence, and divulged even less about herself. Not that she hadn't tried to open up, though. Lily was simply not as loquacious as her housemates, who seemed to have an wellspring of entertaining anecdotes and vivacious personalities.

Her reticence threw off her otherwise friendly peers, who took her shyness as coldness, and thus rejected her. They hadn't ostracized her, per se – simply ignored, and eventually forgot about her. It made it rather awkward when she was required to pair up with other students in class, all of who had already chosen other partners. Her teachers were the only ones who afforded her any sort of recognition, but luckily had stopped singling her out for public praise and demonstrations upon sensing her discomfort. 

As a result of her isolation, Lily spent most of her time in the library, where she had a valid excuse for silence. She avoided her dormitory as much as possible; the camaraderie and bubbling talk of her dorm mates was painful, and she hated feeling like an imposition, a hindrance to normal, easy conversation. She avoided the Great Hall for the same reason, and instead obtained her food through the House Elves.

Upon discovering one tidying up the dormitory, she inquired about the origin and purpose of the creatures, and found a sort of (albeit a bit pathetic, she admitted to herself) likeness to them – rarely seen, never acknowledged. The little house elves took a liking to her and insisted on bringing her specially prepared food and pumpkin juice, and since then she never had to eat in the Great Hall.

At around the same time, she accidentally discovered a private little room off one of the darker corridors in the library and made it her haven. It was small and womblike, decorated cozily in deep crimson and stuffed with lush pillows. The window was enchanted to show any part of Hogwarts without letting anyone else see in. Lily often watched the busy Quidditch pitch in the afternoons and the glassy lake, ruffled only by the thrashing of the Giant Squid, at night. The little room had become her haven, and she ate, studied, and more often than not slept there, as it was located near an equally secluded (and cozy) bathroom with full facilities, including a claw foot bath.

While it was certainly nice to have such luxurious, private quarters at Hogwarts, nothing could compensate for the nearly unbearable loneliness. Literature and music could only do so much to distract her from her solitude. She had survived the past six years alone, though; she figured she could hold out for one more. It was really beyond her comprehension as to why the headmaster made her Head Girl – she had felt the same way when she received the notice that she was a prefect. Her fellow prefects had all been charismatic, self-confident students who epitomized their houses, whereas she often wondered why she had been Sorted into Gryffindor. She was certainly not bold, nor daring or courageous – about the only adjective that remotely fit her was "noble." 

Still, she was Head Girl this year and had little doubt as to whom would take the title of Head Boy: James Potter. He was loved throughout the school – even most of the Slytherins couldn't find it in their hearts to genuinely dislike him. And what was there to dislike? 

He was the ideal Gryffindor: outgoing, brave, full of _joie de vivre_. He was Quidditch captain for the third year running, a prefect, a prankster; that he was unusually handsome hardly diminished his status. Beneath the trappings of popularity though, he exemplified the best traits of the other houses as well. He was loyal to a fault to his three closest friends, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Perceptive and caring, he acted as the unofficial listening board to whomever sought his help, and helped bail more than one student out of detention with Filch. 

He was undoubtedly bright, coming in at the top of the year next to Lily time and time again; his pranks were clever and his banter with teachers and students alike was witty and sharp. He had the best of Slytherin in him too – his diabolical schemes were artfully planned and well executed, and from what Lily overheard in class, he was gunning to be an Auror, even though he could have a career in professional Quidditch. 

Lily loved Quidditch herself, and fell in love with flying the moment she entered Madam Hooch's class in first year. She was quite a proficient flyer, but refused to try out for the Quidditch team despite Hooch's insistence that she would make an excellent Quidditch player. The hawkeyed flying instructor had scrutinized her, and after telling her that her small build and quick reflexes were great advantages, pronounced her an ideal Seeker. Lily had adamantly refused to try out, but she still longed to fly, especially when watching the Quidditch practices from her window.

Lily's eyes closed slowly as she thought about the wizarding world and she began to drift off to sleep when Petunia abruptly slammed on the brakes of the car. She glanced at Petunia, who was glaring ahead, and unloaded her trunk from the boot of the car. 

Before leaving, she leaned over to Petunia. "I'll see you at Christmas, all right? Have fun with…your fiancé."

Petunia's reply was the screeching of rubber against tarmac and an accompanying plume of exhaust that Lily coughed away. She pushed her long red hair out of her face and began to wind her way through the crowds of Muggles, finally pushing through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. The shiny scarlet train was dripping with rain and emitting great white puffs of steam that rose like cumulonimbus clouds through the abating drizzle. 

Lily made her way through the throngs of witches and wizards, keeping her eyes downcast and focused on navigating her trunk across the bumpy platform. She felt herself trip on a particularly slippery brick and lurch forward, waiting the inevitable painful collision with the ground and the subsequent sniggers and humiliation. But none of that came. Instead, she fell straight into the arms of the subject of her earlier reverie, James Potter. Her bright emerald eyes flew up to meet his surprised grey ones and she felt panicked. She hadn't made eye contact with any of her peers in her six years of Hogwarts, and so she was extremely startled when she found herself looking directly at the beloved monarch of Hogwarts.

Lily felt her cheeks growing pink and she quickly averted her eyes, murmuring an apology and turning deftly out of his grasp. She slipped onto the train, positive her face was burning, eyes overflowing with hot tears of mortification. The compartment at the end of the train was empty, and she hastily warded the door with locking charms, disguising the existence of the entire compartment.  

Collapsing against one of the plush velvet seats, she put her cheek to the window to cool and blinked back tears. She wasn't even sure what it was that made her so emotionally sensitive, why simple contact was putting on the verge of tears, but she willed herself to calm down, letting her panic to subside. Perhaps it was the abruptness of it? Yes, that was it. The reintroduction to human touch, to _James Potter's_ touch, had nothing to do with it. Breathing slowed, she pulled her wand out of her trunk and fingered the polished wood lovingly. Curling up against the corner of the seat, Lily huddled into herself, drifting off into a restless, unpleasant sleep.


	2. Cogitatio

Chapter 2 – Cogitatio 

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

It's the heart afraid of dying, that never learns to dance;  
It's the dream afraid of waking, that never takes the chance;  
It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give;  
And the soul afraid of dying, that never learns to live.  
- - - Bette Midler, "The Rose"

Well, Lily thought to herself, this isn't so bad. She had been to only one other Sorting Feast, and that was when she was a first year, so stunned by Hogwarts that she fancied she could _feel_ the magic running through the contours of the wooden bench, through the skin of the ripened fruit laying atop golden plates – even the air seemed to be charged with a delightful electricity. Her amazement with the Great Hall was supplanted, though, by the feeling of _solitudo_ that was to become all too familiar to her over the years. As such, she could count the number of times she had been to the Great Hall on one hand.

Lily found herself nearly as awestruck as the first years. While normally she would not partake in such communal, raucous gatherings, she arrived to fulfill her obligatory duties as Head Girl. The novelty of the Great Hall came afresh to her mind – how could she have forgotten the ceiling was enchanted? The house banners hung proudly over each table, respective animals prowling restlessly in their tapestry cages. Lily nearly gasped with fright as the head of the Gryffindor house ghost popped up through the table.

"Sir Nicholas deMimsy-Porpington at your service! Welcome to Gryffindor, the finest of the four houses! You look like a fine bunch of lasses and lads."

Lily regained her composure. "Nearly Headless Nick. Of course. You really shouldn't be popping through dinner tables, you know. Nick is Gryffindor's ghost, you see. Just don't ask him to clarify his nickname," she said by way of explanation to the first years, who were gaping at him, wide-eyed and startled.

The ghost squinted at her. "Lily? I thought you never came down to the Great Hall. Why, I reckon that if I didn't converse with you in the corridors, I wouldn't even know you were in Gryffindor."

Lily flushed and looked down slightly. "Yes, well, Head Girl duties and all…"

She was interrupted by a loud popping noise from the Slytherin table, which was clouded by some sort of smoke. When the smoke cleared, the Slytherins were no longer there – in their places were disgruntled garden snakes who were twirling around themselves in confusion. The smoke rearranged to form a sentence, which floated above the table in luminous green letters: Slytherins – Snarky and Slimy since 997 A.D! This announcement brought to you by The Marauders."

Lily bit back a giggle and glanced up at the staff table. Dumbledore looked like he was attempting to rein back his amusement, but Professor McGonagall was white with rage and making her way over to the Gryffindor table. She stopped where James Potter and his friends were sitting. Sirius Black was whooping with laughter and giving a high-five to Peter; Remus Lupin and James were sniggering and exchanging congratulatory looks. They stopped abruptly and looked up guilelessly at Professor McGonagall.

"You boys. In my office. Now." She enunciated each word with a jab of her wand, and was looking positively apoplectic. 

The four of them got up smoothly from the table and James bowed to the rest of the students, all of whom were eagerly watching the drama unfold. Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but McGonagall hit him with a quick _silencio_ and filed them out of the Great Hall. The Slytherins, now changed back, were looking more furious than McGonagall, if that was possible. 

One of the first years turned to Lily, an awestruck expression on his face. "Who _was_ that?"

Lily tore her gaze away from James' retreating form. "That's James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. They call themselves - " she paused to look at the dissipating green words. "The Marauders. They're renown for their pranks."

"Well, they're bloody brilliant, if you ask me!" another first year piped up, the rest nodding vociferously in agreement.

Lily shook her head and turned back to examining her food. Typical – a few minutes into the year and the Marauders pulled a tricky bit of transfiguration, gaining a new generation of admirers along the way. McGonagall might be incensed, but she would never take away James' Head Boy badge. He seemed almost sacrosanct; nothing could touch him and his only punishment would be a week or so of detention. Lily mused what the reaction would be if she pulled such a prank.

Most likely the student body would look on in shock and puzzlement, her teachers would look at her with disappointment, and she would be expelled. Well, perhaps not expulsion – but suspension most certainly. No, this year would be no different from the past six, and then she would be gone from Hogwarts and out on her own.

On her own. What would she do out of Hogwarts? Go back to the Muggle world? No; as much as she felt out-of-place at school, she loved magic and the wizarding world, and she would feel stunted among Muggles. She didn't really want to continue her schooling at a wizarding university – most of the people that went on to those became researchers in their chosen field, and even with her skill at charms, she didn't want to spend her days in some sort of laboratory. A professional Quidditch team wouldn't take her if she had no prior experience, no matter how much raw talent she might have; besides, being in the spotlight like that was definitely not to her taste. 

Professor Dumbledore tapped her on the shoulder. Lily looked up at him, startled.

"As lovely as the Great Hall is, there are areas more conducive to thought and slumber. Perhaps I can accompany you back to your room, Miss Evans?"

Lily realized that the Great Hall was completely empty save for the Headmaster and herself, and she felt the familiar, accursed blush creeping up her cheeks. Had she really failed to notice everyone's departure? 

"Of course, Headmaster. I'm…I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting," she said, rising to follow him out the doors.

Dumbledore chuckled. "No need to apologize, dear. I often find myself wrapped up in reminiscence. I gather you were thinking of your plans after graduation?" When Lily gave him a startled glance, he smiled.

"I recognize that look anywhere, especially as it was frequently upon my face when I was your age. My dear brother Aberforth insisted that I would make an excellent hippogriff breeder, and I nearly took him up on his suggestion until I was offered a job as a teacher at Hogwarts. I also worked as a dishwasher in the Leaky Cauldron for a time." He paused, eyes twinkling. "If I may be so presumptuous as to suggest a possible career path?" 

Lily nodded, encouraging him to go on. 

"You'd make a most excellent Auror."

She gaped at him. Her, an Auror? The idea was laughable. People like James or Sirius became Aurors, not timorous little introverts good at Charms. She was about to tell him that she appreciated his confidence in her abilities, even if it was a little misplaced, when he stopped in front of a portrait of Mona Lisa – the moving one, the one that guarded the entrance to her little room.

"I believe we have arrived. You'll find that your trunk is inside, and I believe the house elves insisted on leaving some hot chocolate. Won't you take a sherbet lemon? No? Well, goodnight, Miss Evans. Pleasant dreams."

She looked after him, slightly dazed. He had led her to her little room, and after speaking the password ('subtilis') and stepping inside, she found that a steaming mug of hot chocolate was on the mahogany desk, and her trunk was unpacked, clothes hung neatly in the wardrobe. How on earth did he know about this room? Moreover, how did he know that she inhabited it? Or, for that matter, that the house elves left hot chocolate? She blinked, feeling slightly dizzy, and sank down into the plush leather couch. The man was omniscient – he had to be. Still, his nonsensical suggestion of a career for her hinted that perhaps he was slightly off his rocker. 

Lily arose from the couch and slipped off her school robe and uniform, changing into a long nightgown. She padded over to the dresser and ran the elaborately carved wooden brush through her hair. She considered herself objectively through the mirror. She was really quite beautiful, perhaps not the ostentatious Veela-beautiful, but certainly one of the most attractive girls at Hogwarts. 

All the features that were grotesque on Petunia (ultra-pale skin, thin build, long neck) looked elegant on her. She had her faults, certainly. Her hair, though long and beautifully colored, was thin and fine; her skin wasn't the eggshell white of Petunia's – she had a fair scattering of freckles along her forehead, nose and cheeks; and her bust was too large for her body, making it rather difficult find clothes that fit her unusually proportioned chest. So far, the only garments that had truly fit her were the old-fashioned wizarding clothes, with their long skirts and corsets and robes; she wasn't really complaining – she didn't really like Muggle fashion, especially compared to the sumptuous habiliments of wizarding fashion.

Lily put down her hairbrush with a sigh and slipped under her duvet, murmuring a spell to extinguish all the candles. As the bed's feathery softness enveloped her, she let her mind wander. The Sorting Feast wasn't as bad as she though it would be, and she was glad she attended the last Sorting she would see. The first years weren't as intimidating as they had been when she was their age; they were eager and curious, and so the conversation consisted of her answering all the questions she could, requiring nearly no creative effort on her part. And then there was James' prank on the Slytherins, which made her smile for the first time since she'd seen her parents. 

Ah, yes, James. Lily feared terribly that she was getting a crush on him, which would not do - no, it would not do at all. Prefect meetings would become unbearably awkward; she could already see herself blushing and stuttering in front of him and all the other prefects. And if they had to work together in the capacity of Head Boy and Head Girl? She shuddered to think of how she would behave around him. Besides, the whole thing would set her up for heartbreak from the start. 

She knew that somehow he would find out about her feelings, and let her down gently – oh yes, gently and painfully. He would explain to her that she was a very nice girl and all, but he needed someone poised and self-assured. She would be humiliated and spend the rest of her Hogwarts days avoiding him and wallowing in self-pity. 

Or perhaps he would agree to go out with her, then, a week later, dump her and tell her it was a bet. _That_ would be truly crushing, and Lily could only imagine the shame she would feel if that happened. But James wasn't like that, she knew. He would never be so malicious – he couldn't have had so many friends if he was prone to that sort of abject cruelty. And that was exactly what she liked about him. Sweet, caring, handsome, the ideal boyfriend…husband…

_No_, Lily berated herself sharply. She would not succumb to that, she would not let herself degenerate into that type of person. She was _Lily_; maybe lonely, shy, overlooked - but she was not a pathetic damsel who was so weak as to base a large portion of her self-worth on a boy, especially one who would never notice her anyway. She did not need romantic entanglements, and swore to herself not be get swept up in a silly adolescent infatuation – and with that firm decree, she allowed herself to sleep.

(A/N: First off, thankies and huggles to my lovely reviewers! I get all warm and glowy inside when I read your comments. Plus, you're perpetuating the cycle of sleep-eat-write, which makes me type out more dainty little words to be perused – that's a good thing. Secondly, I don't really mean to end each chapter with Lily nodding off; it just happened that way this time, but fear not – no more sleepy!Lily for a while, at least. Updates are gonna be slower (once a week, maybe) 'cause the Dementor known as Real Life has threatened to snog me senseless if I don't get my arse moving on a large pile of work. Fear not, valiant reader – thou shalt not be abandon'd for the fair maidens of slumber and work.)


	3. Skewed Lines

**Chapter 3 – Skewed Lines**

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,  
Only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness.  
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another.  
Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and a silence.  
_- - - -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow "Tales of a Wayside Inn"_

Lily awoke to the cold pink light of dawn, thick duvet clutched tightly between her hands and wrapped between her legs. She reluctantly extricated herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as her head began to pound with a migraine. She was subject all too often to the throbbing headaches that seemed resistant to every cure, Muggle and magical. 

The house elves seemed to have already been in the room, as a fresh uniform and school robe were folded neatly for her, last night's discarded clothes already on the way to the laundry. Fresh pastries and steaming, golden toast were laid out on delicate plates of china, the cup of thick, dark hot chocolate that the house elves had laid out last night still sitting there.

Wrapping a thick crimson robe around herself, she put her hands around the mug of chocolate and found it still to be scalding hot, exactly the temperature she liked it. Lily never failed to marvel at the house elves, and wondered vaguely if their cooking skills were indicative of their magical prowess. 

She bit delicately into a creamy éclair and drew her legs up to her chest. While Lily doubted anyone else at Hogwarts lived in the sort of luxury that she did, she wondered if the dormitories were as cold as the rest of the castle, her private room included. It seemed as if the entire school was set to 'frozen,' and no matter how thickly she layered her clothes, she was always cold. 

The sun rose further in the sky, and a beam of light blinded her. She put her head in her hands and rubbed her temples. The headache seemed to be worsening, and she knew from previous experience that pain-relieving charms would do no good. Today would not be a good day. 

Lily sighed and resigned herself to a bath. She crossed the corridor to run her fingers along a set of grooves that would open up the bathroom door. Her hand looked like finely carved ivory against the rough dark rock, and her long fingers slid along the wall as gracefully as if she was fingering a harp.

The stones dissolved in front of her and she stepped into the cozy room. The wall rematerialized behind her, wood-paneled walls blending in seamlessly. The house elves had apparently drawn a bath for her as well, and Lily smiled faintly with gratitude. The creatures tended to her with such care that it warmed her heart. She could only hope that if she had child that she would treat him or her with such love and tenderness.

The bathwater was equally as scorching as the hot chocolate, and she felt a bit warmer sliding into the claw foot bathtub. A little voice in her mind - the psychoanalytic one – was telling her that she craved human contact, and no amount of piping hot liquid would substitute. 

She firmly quenched that thought, though, as she washed and rinsed her hair with a thick, herbal shampoo-and-conditioner hybrid that was probably some magical hair care product. She didn't know of any Muggle hair products like this one. It came out of the bottle in a thick, opalescent goo that shimmered to a dark red-gold the color of her hair. 

Lily stepped out of that bath to grab a plush towel that absorbed all excess water, leaving her hair already dry. Quickly brushing her teeth, Lily hurried over to her room, feet already cold from walking across bare stone. She changed slowly, taking care to pull on an extra sweater and thick grey knee socks. She glanced at herself in the ornately carved dresser mirror and cringed slightly.

There were already dark smudges of purple under her eyes, which she rectified with a quick concealing charm she learned specifically for that purpose. She brushed her long hair out, vibrant strands turning gossamer at the tip with thinness. Her skin had a pink flush to it, the result of her capillaries being clearly visible through her translucent white skin. 

Lily glanced at her schedule, undoubtedly left by the house elves, who probably received instructions from Dumbledore. It consisted entirely of advanced classes, plus divination as an elective. Hogwarts had a new professor – someone named Trelawney evidently was their new divination teacher.  

Grabbing her book bag (essays and textbooks already reduced and tucked safely inside), she stepped out into the dim, cold corridor, the hidden entrance swinging shut behind her. Mona Lisa was snoring ever so slightly in her portrait, and a ghost of a smile flitted across Lily's lips – if only da Vinci could see his famous painting now. 

Lily had found that the portrait didn't differ too much from its static counterpart; the legendary half-smirk (a feature that was perhaps more illustrious than the subject herself) seemed to be permanently etched across her features, but Lily suspected that the smile was such an intrinsic part of the piece that even magic could not warp it.

She was drawn out of her contemplation by a soft clattering sound, and imagined for an uncharacteristically morbid moment that tiny bones were being clicked against the stone. The reality proved to be decidedly less macabre. 

A rat, which she deduced to be the source of the noise, scurried into view, red eyes glinting in the light of the candle. The rather fat thing stared at her for a moment, beady eyes narrowing further before it disappeared once again into the shadows, the only evidence of its presence the soft echo of claws scraping against stone.

Lily stared after it for a moment and suppressed a shiver that was for once not a result of chilliness. In all her time at Hogwarts, she had never seen a rat in the castle, let alone one who stared at her, she decided, in an unquestionably calculating manner. Why hadn't the thing been eaten by one of Filch's (or Professor Figg's) cats? Why was it even _alive_? 

Surely it hadn't been collecting scraps under the table in the Great Hall – the more squeamish students would have caused pandemonium, and she couldn't imagine someone keeping the thing as a pet; rats had gone out of fashion as pets when even _she_ was a first year. Lily pulled her school robe more tightly around her, glancing one more time in the direction the thing disappeared into before making the short walk from her room to the library.

She usually arrived there before Madam Pince, who had given her the keys to get into the library at any time she wished. Therefore, Lily was more than slightly surprised to see the library doors already open and also absent of the librarian. She peered inside and walked tentatively across the rows of shelves stuffed with books bound in various colors of leather.

She walked a bit further, into the much dustier shelves of the restricted section. A loud snarl, followed by stifled curse emanated from nearby, and Lily tiptoed around the bookcase to find none other than James Potter glaring at a book that was squirming desperately in his grasp, its indignant cries muffled.  

Lily's eyes widened and she involuntarily drew in a sharp breath of surprise, turning quickly away with the hope of escaping without his notice.

James apparently did notice her however, and swiveled sharply to face her. He mirrored her surprised expression for a moment before he began to stammer. "Oh…erm… I, was, erm, reorganizing the shelves? You know, trying to get in good with Madam Pince?" He smiled sheepishly at her.

Lily merely nodded mutely, unable to think clearly. Her head was aching dully, and her brain felt like cotton. What was he doing, invading her early morning sanctuary? She wondered how he had gotten in; the thin-lipped librarian hadn't given the keys of the library to anyone else as far as she knew. 

But James Potter was indeed in front of her, clutching a rather irritated tome on hexes and looking like he was trying desperately to come up with a valid reason for his presence.

His silence gave her a moment to collect her wits, and she forced the fog out of her mind. It would not do for her to be going about in a semi-comatose state. The disorientation was replaced by a sense of irritation that only those who are tired or in pain can possess. _James has no right to disrupt my routine_, she thought crossly. Lily averted her eyes sharply to the belligerent book in his hands: _Heinous Hexes for Harm_, by Hellene Harpy. 

She spoke in a clipped voice. "You might want to ask its permission before you take it out. That one's rather hostile." 

He shrugged and shoved it back into the bookcase, where it answered with a stifled shriek. "I'm not sure I want to take out a vicious book anyway. Times like these I long for Muggle books. They don't move at all, you know?"

"I'm quite well-versed in the Muggle world, seeing as I grew up in it," she answered stiffly. "If you're quite done messing about with books you obviously have no idea how to handle, will you kindly exit?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them.

James flushed, but his smile didn't falter. "Well, erm, yes–" He paused abruptly and his smile widened into a grin. "Hey, you ran into me at Platform 9 ¾! I didn't see you on the train."

It was Lily's turn to blush. He remembered her clumsiness? Oh, fabulous. And he hadn't seen her on the train? Well of course he hadn't seen her; she had hidden her compartment from view. "I…I was on the train. Perhaps you just missed me."

 "No – I looked in each compartment and I didn't find you. I asked the Gryffindor girls if they had seen you, but they said they hadn't. You're in Gryffindor, right? Are you in my year? I don't think I've seen you in my classes, and I haven't seen you in the Common Room before, yet your badge would indicate you're a Gryffindor and Head Girl. What's your name?" 

Lily simply stared at him for a moment, flustered by his inquisitiveness. _This_ was why her classmates overshadowed her. His rapid questions were rather overwhelming, and she wasn't even sure how to answer. 

On one hand, it was rather nice to be acknowledged by one of her peers, but on the other hand, she felt rather insulted. She was in nearly all of his classes, and he didn't even notice her presence? Granted, she did make a conscious effort to be inconspicuous in class, but nevertheless, she _was_ the other Gryffindor prefect that attended all the prefect meetings.

Lily shifted uncomfortably. His behavior was too reminiscent of Petunia's for comfort. The complete ignorance of her interspersed with interrogation mirrored her sister's attitude almost exactly, even if it was absent of the venom. 

Her defense mechanisms, the ones she employed almost exclusively around Petunia, went up automatically, and Lily's emerald eyes flashed. The headache was like alcohol in a twisted sort of way. It made her tongue looser, but sharper, and caused her to shed her inhibitions while simultaneously erecting defenses. 

Half of her brain was occupied suppressing the pain of her headache, and the other half was attempting to compensate for this unprecedented situation. Already off-kilter, Lily began to react the way she would with Petunia. She drew herself up imperiously and answered him icily.

"Your deductive skills are astonishing. Yes, you are correct – I am a Gryffindor. I am also in your year as my position as Head Girl would logically dictate. And my name is Lily Evans." She paused, before adding haughtily, "The name before yours on the list of top exam scores." 

She regretted her words as soon as they spilled from her lips, and resisted the urge to clap her hand over her mouth. Perhaps the Sorting Hat indeed had a vague idea of what it was doing, because if Gryffindor bravery involved saying things that necessitated the sticking one's foot in one's mouth, she was aptly placed.

Remorse settled in quickly. Her coldness was hardly warranted, especially to the first person of her year that spoke with her outside of an academic context. And to James Potter – wasn't this supposed to be the boy she was attracted to? – _wait_, she corrected herself, _most certainly _not_ attracted to_. Besides, he was trying to be kind, or at the very least he was curious. Certainly not malicious - certainly not like Petunia.

James didn't appear to notice her cold manner, though, and merely smiled. "I'm glad I can put a face to the name." He looked carefully at her. "And a beautiful one, at that."

Lily swallowed deeply, too mortified by her earlier harsh words to say anything further.

He continued lightly, seemingly taking no heed of her awkwardness, "I'm on my way out anyway. Breakfast has probably started by now. Come with me," he said brightly, reaching out a hand to take hers.

Lily backed up a step, now slightly panicked. Just because she had gone into the Great Hall last night didn't mean it was an incident to be recurred. Besides, she thought with derision, who was she going to sit with? She would look rather odd among the first years, and she was pretty sure that they didn't want a "figure of authority" in their midst anyway. 

"No!" Seeing his hurt look, she amended, "I'm…I'm not hungry. It's better here. I mean, I have work to do. Thank you for the offer, though." 

He looked searchingly at her, but backed away from the issue politely. "All right then. I guess I'll see you in class. Unless you need help with your homework?" 

She shook her head slightly, hair shielding her face from view.

James gave her a heart-melting, lopsided smile. "See you around, Lily." 

Through her curtain of hair, she watched him leave the library, his black school robe flowing out behind him. His untidy hair was illuminated by a stray shaft of sunlight, and looked thick and dark as midnight. Lily gripped the shelf in front of her tightly, painfully aware of how hard her heart was beating. That had to be her single strangest encounter with any student at Hogwarts, including the incident where she had to lead a bunch of inebriated third years back to school after they had accidentally ingested firewhiskey-laden butterbeer. 

Lily forced back tears. She had been cruel, and he repaid her with kindness that wrenched her heart. She could have possibly made an acquaintance, even a friend, if only she hadn't allowed herself to be overwhelmed by the situation. Her reaction to him had been instinctual. He had caught her off guard, and it was exacerbated by the fact that his hurried questions were similar to Petunia's sharp, interrogative manner.

She allowed herself a rare moment of misery. _That's what you get for opening up even a tiny bit to people. You simply drive them away._ This incident simply reinforced the prudence of her policy of isolation. Her crush would not – could not – go any further. She did not want to hurt anyone else by lashing out irrationally, and she didn't want to get hurt herself. 

Lily did not want to be trapped in the spiral of self-induced sorrow. She would apologize to James and he would forget about her and her unkind words and she would go on with the relief (_the disappointment_, a nasty voice chimed in) of knowing her status of 'nonexistent' remained unchanged. Somehow it was not comforting thought. 

(A/N: ::glomps reviewers:: Y'all are the best, but you know that already. You motivate me to continue writing, and whenever I read your comments I turn all fluffy and throw rose petals in my own path. Just kidding – I throw rice. Anyway, sorry about this chapter being a bit late. I was having problems with the surge protector that my DSL line is connected to, so I was a bit late in putting this out. However, this chapter is about 1000 words longer than my normal ones. And for those of you who want more L/J goodness, don't worry; PLENTY of it in the next chapter. Oh, and five points to your house if you know who the rat is (it's rather obvious).) 


	4. Broken Pedestal

**Chapter 4 – Broken Pedestal**

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

He goes along just as a water lily  
Gentle on the surface of his thoughts his body floats  
Unweighed down by passion or intensity  
Yet unaware of the depth upon which he coasts  
And he finds a home in me  
For what misfortune sows, he knows my touch will reap…  
_- - -Fiona Apple "Pale September"_

Later, in History of Magic, Lily wondered vaguely if Professor Binns ever vocally deviated from a monotone. It didn't help that the classroom itself presented favorable sleeping conditions. The room was a particularly old one; the seats worn and warped over the centuries to perfectly conform to the curves of the body. 

It also seemed that Binns hadn't learned his lesson about fireplaces. There was always one crackling merrily by his desk, in perfect view for students to fall into hypnosis by the flames. Lily sat at the front of the room near the fireplace not for an optimum dozing spot, but rather to retain as much heat as possible. The Gryffindors also had this lesson with the Hufflepuffs, who were more than happy to distract Binns and were probably the only house that paid a modicum of attention in the class.

The professor didn't appear to notice the apathy of his pupils. He spoke in a dreary voice, eyes downcast to stare unblinkingly at his lecture notes. "The castle's architectural features are among the most unique in the world. As you all know from Hogwarts: A History, the school is host to a myriad of rooms. Most are permanent, such as this classroom. There are some however, that are known to spatially shift."

Binns attempted to yawn, and looked bewildered when he didn't feel the rush of air into his lungs. He paused, but continued dully. "There are many hidden alcoves in the castle, used for a variety of purposes."

_Yeah, like snogging_, thought Lily with a snort of disdain. In her years as a prefect she had had to extricate many an amorous student from a convenient broom closet.

The professor didn't look up from his lecture notes. "One variety of hidden space includes rooms that can only be found if one is not looking for them. Their entrances are hidden, guarded either by paintings or revealed through a contact pattern, similar to the wand-tap movements in entrance to Diagon Alley from The Leaky Cauldron."

Lily perked up a bit. Binns was teaching them something new for a change, but the students didn't appear to notice. The Gryffindor sitting next to Lily was throwing rejected Bertie Bott's beans into the fire and looking morose. Lily rolled her eyes and picked up her quill, copying down Binns' words in small, curvy writing.

  "There is a particularly elusive room called the Perfugium, which appears to those in need of sanctuary. It is invisible to all those who have not seen it personally. Those who have seen it can access it for the rest of their lives; the memory of the room's existence survives even an _obliviate_, a feature of great interest to charms specialists. It was supposedly created by Rowena Ravenclaw, who claimed to recognize the need to withdraw."

Binns cleared his throat and attempted to turn a page of his lecture notes. Upon finding he was unable to do so, he gave an irritated glance at the papers before continuing. "Rowena Ravenclaw was the founder of Ravenclaw House, but she also was a patron of Stonehenge University for the Magically Adept…"

Lily began to tune him out again. This particular gem of learning had been repeated since fifth year, and she found she could almost recite it verbatim. She was quite curious about his description of the Perfugium, though. It sounded nearly identical to her room off the library, and if it was created by the founder of Ravenclaw herself, it would make sense that it be located near the plethora of books in Hogwarts. 

A folded note fluttered to her desk , and she looked at it curiously. It appeared innocuous enough, but surely it was intended for someone else. She began to push it away when green ink materialized on the front.

_Go, on, open it. It's for you, Lily._

She stared at it. Why on earth was someone sending her notes in the middle of class? She was most certainly not accustomed to any form of communication with her peers, especially not the quaint practice of passing notes in class. Nevertheless, her curiosity overcame her cautiousness, and she unfolded the piece of parchment slowly.

_Binns is quite the dull chap, isn't he? Being a ghost is no excuse either. Nearly Headless Nick isn't nearly this lifeless, if you'll pardon the pun. Though I s'pose I'd prefer Binns over Moaning Myrtle. Don't suppose you've met her, have you? I advise against it._

She was even more confused now. Idle chatter was not her forte in the first place, and when coupled with the peculiarity of the situation, the whole thing left her rather dumbfounded. Lily folded the note back, smudging the green ink on her fingers. She dismissed it as a weak prank, but decided to keep the note as a memento of the acknowledgement of her presence at Hogwarts. 

It was perhaps not the most flattering keepsake, but Lily wasn't bitter about her social status at Hogwarts. She was merely lonely and a tad envious of her classmates, who laughed together and cried on each other's shoulders, wrapped themselves up in feuds, fell in and out of love. She was an outsider to the swirling social sphere, and while that sort of ultimate detachment was admired by some, in practice it was a lonesome business. She would have given anything to leap into the frying pan, into the fire.  It was too cold outside. 

Lily bit down on her quill and chewed absentmindedly. Friendship wasn't going to be handed to her on a silver platter though, and she had accepted that in many a self-reflection ago. She understood why her classmates didn't associate with her, and she didn't blame them. She would feel awkward in their position as well, and she wouldn't really want to be around such a taciturn, intensely private person. Through observation she found that people generally gravitated towards those that made them laugh, think, _feel_. She made people feel uncomfortable, and thus they politely overlooked her. It was logical. But logic didn't ease her loneliness.

Lily's eyes began to drift shut when the tattered quill she had been chewing on was plucked out of her hands. Her eyes flew open in surprise, and looked down at her desk. A sugar quill was lying there, and there was another note attached to it. 

_If you want to chew on a quill, at least chew on one that tastes good._

Lily traced the words of the note, more of the liquid emerald color staining her fingers. She noted absently that the ink was the same color as her eyes, and absently twirled the sugar quill, crystal and translucent and sweet, between her fingers. Some of the sugar was already seeping into her skin, and she chanced a delicate lick.

She smiled involuntarily. The only times she had been in Hogsmeade were in her capacity as a prefect, when she patrolled the town and guided the younger students. She had passed by Honeydukes many times and eyed the gorgeous display of sweets but had never purchased anything in the store, or most of the town for that matter. She'd heard students rave about butterbeer but had never sampled the golden, effervescent liquid herself. 

The only things that she had purchased in Hogsmeade were gifts for her family, and even then, they were usually small trinkets that she modified on her own, employing her skill with charms. The Evans family was rather tight on money. Harold Evans was a teacher at a local college, and Rosemary Evans was a nurse who worked at a small hospital in the countryside; they had meager salaries, but hearts of gold. Lily adored them.

They spent most of their combined income to send Lily to Hogwarts and it left them with little other opportunity for luxury. Petunia had always resented the lack of money, and Lily suspected in the deepest of her heart that one of the reasons Petunia was so attached to Vernon Dursley was his paycheck, fat enough to match the rest of his body.

Personally, Lily was disgusted by Petunia's relationship with Vernon. It was always "Vernon, sweetums, you work too hard!" or "Cupcake, do you have the keys?" That sort of saccharine phoniness was absolutely repulsive to Lily, especially considering Petunia's rude behavior towards her, which was most incongruous with her sugary "fiancée" persona.

Perhaps it was just a latent fairy tale complex, but Lily had always wished for the elusive concept of true love. She wasn't asking for a knight in shining armor; just someone who would love her for who she was, someone who would enjoy being around her and understand her. Lily sighed. It was probably more plausible to request the knight. 

There was a tap on her shoulder. Lily snapped abruptly out of her reverie, realizing belatedly that she had been daydreaming. Her glazed green eyes refocused quickly to look into the handsome face of the Head Boy. Lily's throat went dry very suddenly, and her cheeks flushed pink.

James smiled warmly at her, his stormy grey eyes sparkling. "I just wanted to tell you that McGonagall advised us to start planning the Halloween Feast. Do you want to come by my room sometime tonight?"

"Halloween Feast?" she repeated stupidly. Slapping herself mentally, she took a deep breath in an attempt to collect herself into a semblance of an intelligent being. "Yes, that sounds fine. What time shall I stop by?"

"After dinner, maybe. Nine o'clock sound all right with you? My room is guarded by Don Juan – he's a couple of flights of stairs past the Fat Lady. I doubt you'll miss him, as he'll probably try to woo you."

Lily nodded wordlessly, not trusting herself to speak. 

James' smile intensified into a brilliant grin. "I'll see you then."

Her eyes trailed him as he rushed out of the room, and she wondered with a mixed sense of anticipation and dread what the night would bring.

Hours later, she found herself more than slightly vexed. James had neglected to tell her the password to his room, and the portrait of Don Juan, who, she thought with irritation, was far too attractive for his own good and was ridiculously obsequious. For the past half-hour, the painting had been flirting shamelessly with her, spouting mangled Shakespearian sonnets and starry-eyed sentiments.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes upon, my dove. Your eyes are the color of the dazzling Mediterranean, of the sweltering, fertile jungle fauna that drips with glistening, wet _rain_," Don Juan said breathlessly, as if rain was some sort of mind-blowing, blush-inducing erotic liquid.

"And your ruby lips against that snow white skin! It is enough to make a man dizzy with desire," he purred. "I could take you to the zenith of satisfaction, the pinnacle of lust –"

Lily glowered at him, eyes flashing and teeth bared. "Look, you impertinent, testosterone-driven, narcissistic excuse for a piece of canvas, copulation between us is impossible in the first place, and second of all" – her voice lowered to a growl – "I know what you do with Sir Lancelot when you think nobody is looking. Now let me through."

Don Juan paled considerably, but he gave her a weak, charming smile and acquiesced by opening the door. She tossed him a smirk before stepping inside James' room.

"James? Sorry I'm late, the painting –" 

The apology died stillborn on her lips. James was hunched over in his marble bathroom, pallid and trembling violently. Lily rushed over without pause, kneeling next to him. She put two fingers next to his jugular artery and noted with alarm that his pulse was unusually slow. His forehead was breaking out in a cold sweat, and his pupils were so contracted that his eyes looked like solid steel.

She immediately recognized the symptoms as picrotoxin poisoning, recalling the first time she had been a hospital, at age eight. A man had come in with the same symptoms as James had now, and her mother had treated him quickly and effectively. Lily had been astounded at the cool efficiency with which her mother dealt with the crisis, and had since then been witness to many more maladies, but that first incident had ingrained itself firmly in her mind. _Lucky I know my poisons_, Lily thought grimly.

She pushed James' hair back from his voice as he leaned over and violently emptied the contents in his stomach into the toilet. He continued to shudder in her arms, breathing uneven and deep. She steadied and held him with a calmness that surprised even herself, and conjured a glass of water, charming it with the _remedium _charm, which would act as an antidoteto any poison. It was a complex medical charm, and she waited for the tell-tale color change that signified successful imbuement. Sure enough, the peculiar cerulean color flushed through the water, whirling rapidly through the glass. 

James had stopped vomiting, and was now looking miserable but slightly better. Lily eased open his lips to let the enchanted water trickle down his throat. He swallowed a bit before sputtering. He weakly shook his head.

"Shh, love, drink it. It'll make you feel better, I promise," she said soothingly, stroking his hair tenderly. 

James looked up at her dolefully, but obeyed her and swallowed dutifully with a grimace on his face. His eyelids drooped close as he lost consciousness, and Lily checked his pulse again, which was increasing to a normal rate. His body was reacting perfectly to the charm, which had adapted itself to include a sedative.

She used a _mobilicorpus_ spell to levitate James to his bed, decorated predictably in Gryffindor colors. She set him down softly on the ruby-colored sheets and looked critically at him; his clothes were drenched with sweat, and looked very uncomfortable. She didn't know of any spells which would automatically undress him, and the only thing that came close to that was a dissolving charm, but she doubted he would appreciate that. 

She would have to do this manually. Lily bit her lip and loosened his scarlet and gold tie carefully, and struggled a bit while pulling his cashmere jumper above his head. _That was wasn't part of the uniform_, she though vaguely, wondering if his family had money. Her thoughts took a different turn entirely after looking at his body, blushing a bit. His Oxford shirt was clinging tightly to his skin, showing every curve of muscle through the semi-transparent fabric. 

Her hands trembled as she undid each button and she peeled the shirt off of him, fingers brushing his damp skin. She gulped. His muscles were finely cut, from Quidditch training most likely, and were taut and carved like marble into his pale flesh.

She pulled off his black leather loafers and navy socks, pulling up the leg of his trousers. Lily noted with discomfiture that his trousers were in no great state either; she'd have to divest of those as well. She closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. She was blushing again, but the rest of her felt unnaturally warm as well, to the point of discomfort. Lily wasn't sure whether this newfound feeling of stifling warmth was better or worse than feeling like an ice sculpture. 

She began to undo the zipper oh-so-slowly, willing herself not to slip. Her hands were shaking in earnest now. Lily genuinely hoped James was still unconscious, but made her touch as feather-light as possible as a precautionary measure, both for his modesty and hers. She was hardly used to physical contact, and such _intimate_ physical contact was making her burn with embarrassment and unease. 

At least James wasn't awake to notice her – he probably would be horrified at the idea of her coming into such close contact with him. _That, or it wouldn't even matter to him. I could be a house elf for all he cares_, she muttered in a rare voice of sourness that was frighteningly akin to Petunia's.

Lily scowled with frustration at herself, sighing with relief upon getting the trousers off. She hurried to put his clothes in the laundry for the house-elves and took a washcloth from the bathroom, running it under cold water and squeezing it out so that it was cool and damp. 

Lily gently pressed the cloth along his wiry frame, and plucked his glasses from his face, running the chilled material along his brow. She observed with relief that his temperature had cooled down considerably. James' pulse was normal once more, the poison bonding and dissolving harmlessly in his bloodstream with the help of the antidote. 

Lily pulled the burgundy covers over his body and returned to the bathroom to dispose of the washcloth and clean up a bit. She glanced up at the mirror; the bright pink was fading from her skin, but she splashed her face with some frigid water anyway. Logically, she knew she really had nothing to be embarrassed about. She had taken care of James without pause, and he hadn't been conscious to notice she had undressed him anyway. Still, his very propinquity, even when he was sick, seemed to be enough to make her blush. If anything, it was James who might be embarrassed, being seen in a moment of vulnerability and illness. Lily felt a bit better thinking about that – it was difficult to stammer around someone whose hair you've held back while they vomited, she thought with a smile.

She returned to the bedroom to check on him briefly. Lily gazed at him. He was still incredibly handsome, despite having been sick so recently. While the color still hadn't returned to him, the unusual pallor and absence of the spectacles gave him the look of a Greek statue. His thick lashes and perpetually disarrayed hair looked glossy and raven-black against the sharp white angles of his skin, lending an odd but attractive harshness to his handsome features. She brushed away a lock of dark hair that had fallen into his eyes.

James outstretched his hand towards her and murmured something that sounded like "angel." His lips curved up in a dreamy smile, and Lily's heart couldn't help but melt – he looked so oddly beautiful and fragile and _alone_ swathed in those dark sheets. She bent her head down, curls falling over her face, and she brushed her lips softly against his. Only when she pulled away did she realize just what she had done.

Lily fled. 

(A/N: Major schnoogles to my divine reviewers. You guys are the best. And I guess I'll be doling out a lot of points, because, yes, the rat in Chapter Three was Peter. I hope this satisfied those wishing for some more L/J interaction, and don't worry, because there will be even more in the future. I plan to make this fic quite a long one, but I'm going to take things slowly – character development is my mantra, luvies. Ooh, and this is the longest chapter yet (which is still not very long ::blush:: ) – but rejoice! I'll probably post within a week. I plan to work on chapter five all of next weekend and when I'm not bogged down by work (or when I am, but I decide "screw it.") Once again, I love you all and thank you for your gracious reviews!)


	5. Solacium Fridgidus

Chapter 5 – Solacium Fridgidus 

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_I shall go the way of the open sea,  
To the lands I knew before you came,  
And the cool ocean breezes shall blow from me  
The memory of your name.  
- - - - Laurence Hope_

"Lily! Lily, wait for a moment!"

She turned to witness James running across the courtyard, the milky, frost-covered grass crunching to ice under his leather loafers. He reached her in a few long strides, his breath coming out in cloudy white puffs. A whiff of his cologne cut through the thin, sharp air, but before the scent could linger, it was gone.

Her cheeks and lips, already pink from the cold, reddened fractionally as she lifted her eyes to his. Wrapping her school robe around her more tightly, she hoped - prayed - that last night was nothing but a fuzzy memory in his mind. Though, she thought with some sourness, it certainly wasn't unclear in hers.

"Let me walk you to Divination. I'm in there too. That's the class you have now, isn't it?" James asked breathlessly.

Lily looked at him doubtfully. She didn't believe for a moment that he was making idle small talk, not to her. 

"I do have Divination now, you are correct. What do you really want to discuss?" she asked coolly.

"Well, I just wanted to thank you for helping me last night." James gave her a slightly embarrassed smile. "It can't have been pleasant." 

She fought down the tide of uneasiness that swept through her, discomfort twisting her stomach even as her skin tingled from the echo of his flesh. She dragged her eyes from his lips and gleaming teeth with some effort. Thoughts of that sort were dangerous, and she really needed to concentrate on the situation at hand. Perhaps if she waited for him to continue, he would reveal just how much he had retained of the memory.

A faint pink crept onto his cheeks. "I mean, I got rather ill and you were unfortunate enough to intercept me - well, you know…" he trailed off sheepishly. Her jaw clenched tightly, Lily waited for him to continue in pointed silence. 

He coughed somewhat uncomfortably. "And then you made me drink something thoroughly unpleasant and I fell asleep."

Lily let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. It seemed the potion's sedative had taken proper affect, which meant that he wouldn't recall anything afterwards. But to her dismay, James continued talking, his attitude suddenly – suspiciously – blasé. 

"And when I woke this morning," he drawled, "my clothes were off, and I was lying in bed." A side of his mouth twisted up in a half-smirk. "Might you have any idea how that came to be?"

Lily nearly choked. She scrupulously avoided his gaze, racking her brain desperately for an idea, for anything that would seem a plausible excuse to explain his state of dishabille. Her nails dug into her palms in an effort to keep her voice steady and quell the rising heat in her cheeks. 

"I requested the house elves tend to you," she said coolly. "And evidently they felt the need to extricate you from your clothing." Lily paused, trying to find a way to steer the conversation into safer waters. "Do you know who poisoned you, by any chance?" She gave herself a silent cheer after his expression turned to one of shock. She may not have been a natural conversationalist, but at least the clumsy distraction had been effective. 

James looked at her with disbelief. "Poison? You can't be serious!" His grey eyes were wide with shock. "Who'd want to poison me?" he asked in a surprise-laden voice, which for all its sincerity, verged uncomfortably on arrogance.

Lily looked fiercely at him. She was unaccustomed to having her opinions refuted, especially one that seemed so obvious. "Do you have a better explanation for why you were vomiting right after dinner?" she asked sharply. 

James sputtered. "But _poison? That could have bloody well killed me!" _

"It wouldn't have killed you," said Lily, resuming her walk across the morning-chilled courtyard. This sort of straightforward conversation was relatively easy for her – it fed the questions into her and responses were neat and tidy. "It was picrotoxin, which is a Muggle product. Only magical poisons can kill wizards." 

"So what you're saying is that whoever put this in my drink didn't intend to kill me?" James' brow furrowed in concentration. "Then why," he said slowly,  "would they have put poison in there to begin with?" A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and the Herculean glow that seemed to surround him had dissolved, leaving a mystified, brooding young man just as human as she.

Unexpectedly, Lily felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for him. He was obviously at a loss, visibly upset by the idea of someone wishing harm towards him - not at all the confident young wizard she was accustomed to. In a way, she liked him better like this; she was on more equal ground with him, compensating for his insecurity by becoming more secure herself. It was almost an unconscious transition, but one that she found she selfishly liked. 

Still, it was disconcerting to see him in this vulnerable state, like a king without his crown. Physical vulnerability was one thing, but being suddenly exposed to emotional weakness put her in a distinctly unfamiliar situation.

Lily bit her lip. "Do you know who would have access to Muggle things?" she ventured, finding the questions for once flowing easily to her lips. She slipped past a doorway and began to ascend the stairs to the Divination tower. "You may not be able to ascertain their motives yet, but you could narrow down the list of suspects."

"Normally I'd blame it on Snape and be done with it," said James, "but he wasn't anywhere near the Gryffindor table, let alone my goblet." He paused, eyes fixed on some indeterminate point. "Unless…" He trailed off and shook his head, dark hair brushing the tips of his silver-rimmed spectacles. "No, it would never have been a Gryffindor."

Lily was about to reply when the staircase shifted abruptly, stone grating against stone as it moved jaggedly from the wall. It stopped again suddenly just by another stair, and Lily took a few deep breaths. Her bag had been tossed away from her and she bent over to retrieve it when the stairs scraped violently against each other, pitching harshly to the side.

Her stomach gave a sickening lurch as her footing became unsteady and she stumbled over the precipice, falling in what seemed to be slow motion into the empty air. With a vague sense of detachment, she saw her book bag tumble over the edge, feeling her body begin to fall with it into the air that seemed to curve around her and pull her down. She suddenly felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her waist, hauling her upwards.  Lily found herself being pulled closely against James' chest, her knees weak and body shaking.

Distantly, she heard her books crack against the stone many floors below, and taking a deep, shuddering breath, she clutched the thick fabric of James' cloak. That could have been _her down there, laying in a heap of broken bones and books, a gruesome and unfamiliar spectacle for her classmates to discover. That morbid thought, the brush with death, unsettled her deeply, leaving her to hold desperately, unthinkingly, to the figure in front of her._

James said nothing, merely held her tightly and stroked her hair soothingly while she took in gulps of breath, inhaling like much-needed oxygen the somehow distinctly masculine scent of mint and musk and spice. The artless movement, the security, in the embrace left her feeling almost drowsy, drunk on the delicious feeling of warmth that was spreading from her solar plexus and into her fingertips; fingertips that felt suddenly the impulse to wrap around his neck and run through his hair. 

The warmth was delicious, steadying – she could hear his heartbeat through the thick folds of his clothes, the tensing and relaxing of muscles as he shifted his arms to hold her more closely. Those affectionate, gentle hugs with her relatives were nothing like this. She didn't want to let go, wanted to remain forever like this, with her skin warmed from his body heat, her body encased protectively in his arms.

Lily pulled away from James sharply; she was altogether swiftly, painfully cognizant of the close contact, and her own perpetuation of it. She felt a wave of disgust of herself, aghast at her clinginess and even more sickened by her enjoyment of it. Was she really so starved for human contact that she would fling herself at someone who hadn't even requested any sort of touch, and probably didn't want it?

She would have flushed a deep red color if not so consumed by the self-rebuke of her impulsive embrace, and instead settled for collecting herself with a firm clench of the jaw. She breathed in harshly. "Thank you for pulling me back. I'm sorry about - " her voice tightened, "throwing myself at you. Forgive my outburst."

James gave her a curious look. "Lily, you really don't need to apologize." He paused, his eyes weighted with concern. "Are you sure you're all right?" 

She nodded awkwardly, eyes fastened to a portrait of a woman weeping over a tombstone in a garden thick with roses. _Concentrate on being firm, she admonished herself._

"I'll get your books up here. Can you make it to class on your own?" James put a hand on her shoulder, deep grey eyes looking at her searchingly, and filled almost painfully with concern – _brotherly concern, she noted with a sick taste in her mouth._

Lily stiffened and pulled back from him, suddenly suffocated by the close proximity, physical and emotional. Her voice was strained. "Nonsense. I can get the books on my own and I can make it to class by myself," she said, straightening her robes. "Now, if you'll excuse me - "

James stepped in her way and shook his head. "You go up. I'm sure our new professor won't mind if such a dashing student such as myself is late." He grinned at her to reveal bright white teeth. "You can tell her your knight in shining armor went to rescue your wayward textbooks."

She looked at him with vague apprehension, filled with a sense of déjà vu. Hadn't she just been thinking about knights in shining armor the other evening? 

"I think I'll pass on the latter," said Lily delicately. She could tell he was making an effort to lighten the mood and indulged the change of subject with relief. "But thank you for your offer of getting my books." Normally she wouldn't have considered taking him up on the offer, but she didn't want to hike all the way up and down the staircases a second time, especially considering she had nearly killed herself on one of them recently. She was feeling rather dizzy from the rush of hormones that pumped through her veins, but ill from the considerable lack on his part.

James flashed a last, dazzling grin at her before bounding down the stairs and disappearing down a dark corridor that she had always thought to be a dead end. His eyes, though, were filled with worry and weighted down by his own predicament. Lily sighed – she was getting caught in the most awkward circumstances with her unrequited crush. But to be honest with herself, she didn't entirely hate the situation.

***

James had panted into Divination just a moment before the professor arrived, and slid into the seat next Lily. She, for one, was still trying to stomach the new décor of the room – it was, needless to say, atrocious. Thick plum-colored drapes were hung from the ceiling and wall, and the murky windows had been plastered with a peculiar, moving-patterned lace the colour of khaki. Even their desks were wrapped in dark, faded fabric, and frayed Persian rugs were piled one atop another on the floor. The candles that floated in crystal-ball-shaped sconces kept glittering in different colours as the wax melted, and the flame burned in rainbow. All in all, it looked like some repulsive, quasi-gothic boudoir.

Mist started to emit from the front of the room, and a figure stepped out from the shadow of it. Lily would have started laughing if she wasn't gaping open-mouthed at the woman. She was dressed in a puff of dusty-rose-coloured satin, and her hair was covered by a veil of diaphanous material embedded with crystals. Her spectacles were so heavily and hideously jeweled that her round eyes stood out like bizarre headlights on a Muggle car.

She began to speak, her eyes slightly glazed and unfocused. "I am Sybil Trelawney, world-famous Seer and now your professor." Her voice was misty.  "I will assist you with discovering your Inner Eye. Some of you will find that you are powerful Diviners. Others," she paused, her eyes coming to rest on Lily, "will have considerably more difficulty."

Next to her, James muffled a snicker. "If only Sirius could be here to see this," he murmured. "He could wrap her Inner Eye in a box and sell it to her as a Christmas present."

Lily smiled uncertainly and turned her attention to Trelawney, who was now floating about the room and giving instructions to specific pairs. She drifted slowly over the two of them, and gave them each a scrutinizing look. James had the most angelic look she'd ever seen on the face of a seventeen-year-old boy, and Lily nearly burst out laughing. 

Trelawney, however, just about melted at his cherubic smile. "I sense much psychic power from you, my dear. Yes, yes…" She closed her eyes, speaking in a distant voice. "You had best stay far from those lacking the same talent. They will bring only ruin and downfall to you."

Her eyes snapped open to look at Lily. "I am sorry, my dear. You have very little aura," she continued, gasping suddenly and putting her hand to her forehead. "Oh, I knew it! You will die late in your life from a domestic accident. Terribly sorry," said the professor somberly. "The future lies within the crystal, my apprentices. Unpeel the onion of the future to reveal your destiny." With that strange metaphor, Trelawney glided away with her curtain-like robes shrouded around her, murmuring about the heavy burden of those with the Inner Eye.

Lily stared after her, lips parted in surprise, not sure whether to be enraged at her presumptuousness or amused by her prophecies. While she didn't make a habit of being disrespectful to teachers, it appeared Trelawney was more of a charlatan than a teacher. She sat back in the faded mauve chair and looked morosely down at the desk. It appeared that Trelawney had chosen her as a victim for prophecies of doom, thought Lily glumly, blowing away the sunlit dust that sparkled in front of her nose.

"Cheer up," said James, glancing over at her. "As a prodigy in the field," he remarked with mock portentousness, "I can at least advise you as to how to live your remaining years in utmost bliss." He rubbed his hands over the crystal ball, which swirled with a silky cloud of azure at his touch. 

"Oh yes, much conflict in the future…a lover's spat? Oh, and he's tall, dark, oh, and handsome, too – definitely not Snape then, eh? Well, this is quite entertaining – you know, your eyes are just as bright in a crystal ball?"

Lily lowered her eyes immediately, pale lids shielding her irises from view. The stifling air was drenched with musty perfume oil and was hazy with thick curls of tangerine incense. The stuffy, oppressive air made her clothes stick to her clammy skin, cold as snow to the touch. James took her hand and she flinched, automatically moving to pull it away from his strong and warm one, no matter how much her nerve endings told her to linger. 

His eyes flickered from the candlelight in the room. Everyone was whispering in hushed voices, hunched over their velvet-draped desks or rearranging wet tea leaves on glass plates. James leaned forward. "Are you all right? Your hands are freezing, and I know you were given quite a scare earlier - " 

"I'm fine," she replied shortly, smoothing the aubergine velvet on her desk with a pale hand. "Thank you for inquiring." She tentatively touched the crystal orb, which flushed to an amethyst colour at her fingertips. The mist swirled and thinned, leaving vague shapes inside. They fell suddenly into sharp relief, and Lily squinted closer to see. 

It was her in there, standing on the balcony of an Italian villa and looking out into a vivid sunset, fading from cherry to gold to indigo and into the shadowed hills. A figure came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning forward to nuzzle her neck. Her image in the crystal ball closed her eyes dreamily and twisted around to face the man that was obviously her lover, and she peered closer in order to identify him.

Lily gasped and removed her hands from the orb as if she had been scalded, the image burning behind her eyes in full colour and exquisiteness. The feeling of nausea swept over her again, and she closed her eyes in order to stop the world from swimming into a whirlpool of colour and unpleasant sensation. She curled her arms around herself, attempting to stop the waves of shock and hope and anger that were crashing at the edge of her consciousness. Why, _why, did she have to feel so absurdly, irrationally strongly about this?_

She faintly heard James asking her what was wrong, what she had seen in there to make her react so violently. If he didn't know, she wasn't eager to enlighten him.

***

Lily had managed to carefully avoid James for the entire week, withdrawing more into her private room and sitting at the back of class, hidden from view. She took obscure corridors to class, shrouded in shadows and without so much as one word to another one of her classmates. She had spoken perhaps a few sentences throughout the entire week, falling once again into the familiar state of utter solitude. It was cold comfort.

She could not, however, avoid the Prefect Meetings. Her absence would be more conspicuous than her attendance, and she didn't want to disappoint those who had elected her to the post of Head Girl – she did have duties to fulfill, after all. So when she filed into the classroom that was used for such purposes, she found that she blended in easily with the students who milled noisily about the room, laughing and sharing jokes.

James tapped her on the shoulder and gave her an warm smile before calling everyone to order. She noted with slight amazement how they immediately obeyed his command; even Snape sat without hesitation.

James cleared his throat. "Our first order of business is the Halloween Feast. We need to assign people to charm the decorations, others to prevent the food from being tampered with - "

"You speak from personal experience, mate?" a Gryffindor prefect interrupted. The room erupted in laughter, obviously remembering last year's Feast, in which James and company had doused the food in modified Cheering Charms, so that anyone who consumed it became not only very bubbly, but very flirtatious as well. Lily hadn't been at the Feast, but it had been buzzing all over school the next day.

James grinned in response. "I wasn't in charge of the Feast last year. I'm going to pass around a piece of parchment and you all can sign your names on it."

A dark-skinned Hufflepuff witch raised her hand. "Are we going to work with partners again this year?" Murmurs of excitement broke out among the prefects, and James glanced at them with an amused smile.

"I guess that means yes."

Lily watched the whole affair in wonderment. He assumed leadership so naturally, so easily, that she felt at ease simply sitting back and letting him take over to leave her working behind the scenes. That was, after all, what she had done for the past two years. The rest of the meeting passed quickly, it being early in the year and with no major issues to report. As people began to file out, she gathered the parchment that had been passed around and put it in her bag. She tidied up the room until she was the last one out the door, and she stepped out into the considerably cooler and darker hallway.

Two figures were speaking in hushed voices at the end of the hallway, and she strained to see them. Lily recognized James' profile in the candlelight, his strong jaw and straight nose as distinct as that of a Greek statue's. The pretty Hufflepuff who had asked about partners was gazing up at him, twirling her hair and laughing. Lily slipped further into the shadows in order to hear what they were saying.

"We should go together, James," the girl blushed. "I've been wanting to ask you for the longest time, you know," she laughed lightly. "I've fancied you since fifth year," she said, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger.

It was James' turn to flush a bit. "You should have just asked before, Julia." He grinned, embarrassment gone, and put his hand on hers. "I would have accepted."

The girl – Julia – smiled coyly. "So does that mean you'll accompany me to the Halloween Feast?"

His lips curled up in a devious smile. "And to Hogsmeade, too, if you like," he said playfully, fingering a lock of thick, black hair cut in a neat bob.

"Saturday, after breakfast in the Great Hall." Her dark eyes glinted as she leaned forward to kiss him sweetly, slowly on the lips. "See you then," she grinned impishly, before trotting down the corridor, her yellow and black Hufflepuff scarf streaming out behind her.

James touched his fingers to his lips, a smile lingering on his face. He had a faraway look on his face, pale eyes dreamy and distant. When he started down the corridor a bit later, Lily finally slipped out of the shadows and into the dim torchlight.

She felt sick. Jealousy gnawed at the pit of her stomach, disappointment resting on her shoulders like a leaden weight. What had she expected – that he ask her? She shook her head scornfully at herself. He wouldn't look twice her way, not when there were girls like Julia around. She seemed to be everything Lily wasn't – vivacious, affectionate, pretty in a dark, exotic way. 

An irrational bubble of green-tinged anger flushed through her veins at this Julia, who had so sweetly and cruelly and entirely unintentionally sliced through any delusions Lily may have held about a romance with James. It wasn't going to happen – she knew that now deep within her heart. 

An inkbottle that she had been gripping finally crushed within her fist, the dark liquid seeping into the blood that was flowing from the cuts. She swore softly to herself and stooped down to collect the broken pieces that lay scattered on the floor. The shards cut shallowly but painfully into her skin, and she could feel them embedding deeper into her skin as she closed her fist around the ruined inkbottle. With her wand hand injured, there was nothing she could do about the spill, and she felt a bit guilty for leaving the pool of ink for the house elves to clean up. Lily headed back towards her room – there was no need to go to Madame Pomfrey over broken glass.

***

(A/N: First off, major thanks to my beta, Kelsey. You've probably already read her fic – "Something Like Love" – but if you haven't, go read it now. It's wonderful. And she is a fabulous beta who deserves some sort of accolade for editing this chapter. Secondly, I apologize profusely for the time it took to get this out. But it's about 4000 words long, so I hope that helped make up for it. Lastly, as always, thank you to my reviewers. You guys are the ones that keep me writing. I loff you.)


	6. Casus Belli

**Chapter Six – Casus Belli**

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

*****

Friday afternoon, Lily found herself strolling along Hogwarts' chilly but crowded grounds with James, scribbling ideas for the Halloween Feast into a worn Muggle notebook. She hadn't bothered to replace the broken quill she clutched between her fingers, even though the nib scratched unevenly across the paper, leaving the occasional thick pool of ink that smudged the paper and her skin as she wrote.

James waved to some Ravenclaws across the yard while he continued to talk. "And the jack-o-lanterns are a must of course, but I was thinking we could carve the faces of the teachers on some, and charm them to talk."

Lily frowned. "I don't think they'd be too happy with that."

"But Dumbledore would get a good laugh out of it, and all we need is his approval, even if it isn't public."

"Fine," she sighed. "But why do I feel as if I'll end up taking responsibility?"

James grinned at her. "Be a sport, Lily! And trust me - I'll be happy to take credit for the idea."

She wrote down the idea grudgingly, swearing under her breath as the jagged edge of the quill ripped the messy page. Writing with a quill was something that she still wasn't full accustomed to, especially when she tried to scribble quickly across flimsy paper. James plucked the quill from her hand and murmured a spell under his breath, running his fingers across the stem. As his touch moved from the end to the tip, the broken and bitten feather grew into an amber-coloured quill that tapered into a fine, engraved silver nib. He handed it back to her wordlessly.

Lily looked at the quill carefully for a moment before lifting her gaze to his. "You certainly are one to demonstrate your skills. How unfortunate that I'm on the receiving end of your arbitrary displays."

James looked hesitantly at her. "I can change it back if you like… I just thought…well, it was giving you problems …"

"No, I appreciate it," she said hurriedly. "Thank you. I'm just not used to such impromptu demonstrations." She smiled to take the edge off her words.

Lily sighed inwardly when his returning smile was tentative. Evidently her repartee was a bit too serious for the likes of her generally easily intimidated classmates. 

She could feel James' eyes on hers. "What it is it? Staring at my profile won't get you anywhere."

He flushed. "Well, I wanted to know, er…"

"Yes?"

"Would you like to come to Hogsmeade on Saturday?" he blurted. "We can finish up the plans there," he added quickly. "I mean, it's a lot warmer at the Three Broomsticks."

Lily glanced up at him, flattered by the invitation more than she cared to admit to herself. She frowned, though, as she remembered the conversation she'd overheard after the Prefect Meeting. "Aren't you going with Julia that day?"

James looked at her, surprised. "Well, yes, but I wanted you…thought you might want to come along," he said quickly. "I doubt she'll mind." He paused and looked at Lily curiously. "How did you know we were going?"

"Rumours," she lied smoothly. "But I don't want to infringe on your time, especially with things like obligations. And Julia probably wants you to herself -"

"I want you to be there," interrupted James. He glanced at her, something passing fleetingly through his winter-grey eyes, so briefly that Lily almost thought she had imagined it. But when she glanced at him again, his expression was dark and clouded over, gaze directed blankly towards the lake. She clutched her notebook more tightly to her chest, the nib of the quill digging into her flesh.

They walked slowly away from the crowds for a while in silence, the cold October sun doing nothing to thaw the frost-crisped leaves that crunched under their feet. Lily was at ease in the silence – she hesitated to label it companionable, but it was, at the least, comfortable. 

James stopped suddenly and bent down to brush away a pile of yellowed leaves, pulling out a stone that glinted in the sunlight that sliced through the clouds. He stared at the chunk of raw stone – was it amber? – for a moment before holding it next to her hair. Lily flushed under his long gaze, and was about to open her mouth when he spoke. 

"Same color," he said softly. 

He took her hand and placed the rough stone in her palm, closing her fingers around it. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, as was the hand still wrapped around her fingers.

Lily turned away from him hastily and bent her head. "Where and what time shall I meet you tomorrow?" she asked abruptly.

James looked at her sideways, but granted the change of subject without mention. "How about ten o'clock outside the Great Hall? After breakfast? That's when I promised to meet Julia."

Lily nodded, suddenly eager to leave. "I should get back. I have a student to tutor." She walked forward a few paces before turning around, and said impulsively, "Thank you for the quill. It's really very beautiful."

She grinned smugly and turned away before he could reply.

***

Lily, despite her increasingly familiar encounters with James, had been left with a feeling of implacable discontent that rubbed even more abrasively at the surface of her thought whenever she happened to be in close proximity to the collection of Hufflepuffs that trailed cheerfully around _that girl_. That girl (otherwise hailed as Julia), whom her subconscious had hereto forth dubbed "the opposition," bothered her in ways that defied logical explanation. 

She seemed suddenly to be everywhere, surrounded by friends or near James, as if purposely flaunting herself to Lily. The notion was of course ridiculous, Lily acknowledged, since Julia knew absolutely nothing about her, but that analysis did nothing to assuage her general irritability. Julia had managed with a few simple words and a kiss to charm the most charming wizard at Hogwarts himself - the wizard that Lily in particular found herself attracted to despite the best intentions of her higher brain functions. 

It was, as that ubiquitous nagging voice so eloquently put it, bloody unfair. Oh, of course she knew that her shyness was something she could overcome, that she had nothing to risk, and all the utter tripe advised by the contingent of wizarding self-help gurus. Unfortunately, the very idea of attempting to flirt using the double-entendre of wands and broomsticks left her alternately snickering and pitying the poor witch or wizard who attempted to employ the technique. Besides, she thought sardonically, it seemed that successful flirtation necessitated twisting one's lips around more than just silly pick-up lines.

And now some exceptionally sadistic deity – or Professor Flitwick - had thought it appropriate to choose "Miss Julia Sanchez" as her partner for a Charms project that constituted a substantial portion of each student's grade. Lily had permitted herself a long and inventive string of expletives upon hearing Flitwick announce the pairs. The first few meetings between the two girls had been awkward and brief; twice had Julia cut short the meeting in order to watch a Quidditch practice – a _Gryffindor Quidditch practice. _

It was true that while Julia had done the work she had promised to do, Lily ended up working alone in the library most of the time, cross and indignant because of Julia's blatant unconcern and total lack of consideration for their project. Lily was, ironically, somewhat intimidated herself by the forceful witch, but she liked to tell herself that her politeness stopped her from confronting Julia openly about the issue - so she resorted to her usual modus operandi of coldness. 

Tonight, however, Julia was an hour and a half late, and when she finally came running into the empty classroom they had agreed to meet at, arms full of crumpled parchment and an unapologetic smile on her face, Lily was furious. 

After a brief, strained silence, Lily lifted her narrowed eyes to Julia's. "Do you know how long I've been waiting?" she asked, enunciating each word.

Julia dumped the parchment on a desk and smoothed back her wind-mussed hair as she sat. "Sorry. I was celebrating the Hufflepuff victory."

Lily stared at her incredulously. "You were at a _party_?"

"Well, it's important to my house – I mean, this puts us in the running for the Quidditch Cup -"

 "I have been sitting in this freezing classroom for nearly _two hours_. Are you telling me it was for nothing? That while you were drinking Ogden's and having a jolly good time, I have been working on _our_ project?" 

"I have an obligation to my House too," Julia replied defensively. "And besides, I did the work that I was supposed to." She paused and said suddenly, "Wait - why am I defending myself? The Quidditch Cup is impor-"

"I don't care about your goddamn Quidditch Cup!" she said fiercely. "You had an obligation that you simply dismissed because you wanted to celebrate! I…I'm honestly at loss for words. I simply _cannot_ believe your selfishness. You have an atrocious sense of priorities - meaningless celebration over study… It's unfair to me, you know. I end up doing the lion's share and yet you reap the benefit. It's not acceptable," she said after a pause.

Both girls fell silent, and Julia finally looked up at her. "I'll make an effort to contribute more to this project," she mumbled uncomfortably.

Lily sighed and pushed her hair away from her face. "I suppose that's the closest I'm going to get to an apology."

Julia was quiet for another moment. "How did you know I was drinking Ogden's?" she asked curiously, looking up at Lily.

"I can smell it on your breath," she muttered, glancing down at the parchment in her hands. "Anyway, you might as well know what I've been doing in your absence. To get the sample of unicorn's blood, we'll need to go into the Forbidden Forest. There tend to be small pools of it near the edge, so it shouldn't be hard to find."

"The Forbidden Forest?"

"Is there something wrong with it?"

Julia shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Are you sure it's worth the risk for the project? Professor Dumbledore always warns us never to go there, and my dormitory overlooks the Forest - I've heard some pretty awful howls coming from inside." At Lily's haughty look, Julia said reluctantly, "I mean, I wouldn't mind assisting with the research, but I don't want to go into the Forest itself. I'm not a Gryffindor."

Lily paused, and gave her a long look. "You may be assured that no 'assistance' of yours is required in the completion of this project in the first place. You've evidently never heard of students being assigned detention in the Forest – with proper supervision, while still menacing, it's at least fractionally less dangerous than traipsing around with a horde of fools. Besides, I've obtained permission for research in the Forest before. You've never done so, I presume?" she asked coolly.

"Well, I've researched extensively, but not in the _Forbidden__Forest," Julia replied edgily. "It's dangerous and I don't want to lose a limb researching for a mere project." _

Lily gave her a mocking smile. "Excuse me while I applaud the institution of your – what did you promise? 'Increased contribution to the project.'"

Julia's eyes hardened as she glared at Lily. "I'll manage," she said coldly.

"Undoubtedly you will. Famous for your bravery, are you not? Oh, pardon, is that for your _liaisons with the brave?" Lily responded derisively._

"How do you mean?" asked Julia cautiously. She seemed to detect she'd been insulted somehow, but was wisely not rising to the bait until she was sure of Lily's implication. 

"I mean nothing," replied Lily evenly. "My words are ambiguous nonsense, really. Interpret them as you see fit. I recommend extensive analysis. Don't worry, I'll wait."

"Well, am I then to 'interpret' that you are referring to the relationship between me and James Potter?"

"It would befit the situation, wouldn't it?"

Julia looked at her through narrowed eyes. "What exactly are you trying to say? Do you disapprove or something?"

"I don't disapprove or approve of your relationship," said Lily - well, perhaps that wasn't _quite_ the truth, but it was certainly close enough…wasn't it? 

Julia's dark eyes were unkind, but behind the hard veneer there was definite uncertainty.

"I don't care one way or another," Lily continued casually. A blatant lie, of course – it was fascinating to see how Julia brought out this ugly side of her own personality: lying, goading, manipulating…and Lily found it amusing in a way. Who knew she would be victim to pettiness? Objectively, it was an intriguing revelation. Too bad she wasn't objective with regards to herself. "Surely you have a sense of humour?"  

"Well of course I have a sense of humour," sniffed Julia. "But your 'jokes' or whatever you'd like to call them are too vague for anyone to understand them."

"Anyone?" Lily gave her a disdainful smile. "That's a rather broad judgment, don't you think? Surely _some_ can detect the humour in my words."

She suppressed a smirk as she saw Julia's hands tighten on the edge of the desk.

This was really too amusing. Leisurely provoking this girl indulged a most delicious appetite for oblique revenge…or perhaps it was passive aggressive revenge, she wondered. No matter. She knew her inevitable self-castigation would atone this brief dalliance with maliciousness. How lovely it was to have one's own private guilt complex.

Julia glared at her. "They're obviously your close friends" - Lily snorted at the irony of the statement - "and know you well enough to understand your…your… indirect references. No need for you to think you're so clever," she said angrily. "And don't bloody well patronize me!"

Lily raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised by the heatedness of Julia's words. "I may patronize you if I wish," she said calmly. Oh, she had infuriated the other girl now. _Tables have turned, mon cherie_.

Julia stood up abruptly from her desk. "Think you're so high and mighty don't you? Just because you're top of our year or Head Girl – and Merlin knows why they gave _you_ that post, of all the prefects. _I_ expected to have it and everyone expected it to go to _me. _I _deserved it. It's just because you have a following among the younger students and the Headmaster pities you!" _

She straightened her robes with a violent tug, her Hufflepuff prefect badge glinting in the light. "All you do is study anyway. It's no wonder the teachers have fallen in love with you – you're the only one that bothers to do their meaningless work. And you do have to _work, don't you?" she sneered. "A Muggleborn still not adjusted to wizarding life – the post of Head Girl should go to someone who has experience, can guide people. You lean on the crutches of the adoration of first-years! You have no real friends, no real qualifications - and you know it. You're still insecure, still feel undeserving. And you're right."_

"Been observing me, have you?" said Lily softly. 

"I don't need to observe you," Julia scoffed. "You're obviously unfit for the position. You barely talk during meetings. At least you have someone like James, who is _competent_, to do the work for you." She snorted. "Talk about hypocrisy. You yell at me for not working to your standards, and then you go and let someone else take over your duties," she spat. "Hypocrite. You're a bloody, incompetent hypocrite, and you've risen to your post by ingratiating yourself. You're just a naïve little _Muggleborn_." 

Lily's throat tightened. "Get out," she said quietly. 

"And what would you do if I didn't?

"Get out before I suspend your prefect privileges. Just go." 

Julia shook her head disgustedly. "Gladly." She shoved the parchment off the desk. "You can do the project on your own for all I care. At least then you'll be doing something productive." She turned to go before spinning around again.

"And do yourself a favour – don't try to grovel to James. You're just making a fool of yourself. He thinks of you as a pity case." She gave Lily one last scornful look before turning into the corridor.

Julia's words echoed in her head long after the sharp click of her heels had disappeared. Useless… incompetent… hypocrite… pity case… the unspoken _mudblood_. Having someone corroborate Lily's own worst doubts – doubts that she never really even thought to be substantiated – was far more hurtful than she had ever expected it to be. She sat in that cold, silent room for a long time, neither noticing nor bothering to wipe away the wet streaks that trickled along the curves of her face. Tears, Petunia had once told her, were useless things anyway.  

***

It most certainly had not taken a great deal of deliberation to decide not to accompany James and his Jekyll-and-Hyde-esque accessory to Hogsmeade. She had barely had any sleep last night, and despite a generous helping of an ambiguous beverage the house elves had provided, the ramifications of sleep deprivation were all too evident in her mood. 

Lily navigated quickly down the staircases, which seemed to sense her unwillingness to tolerate any sort of unexpected jostling. She slipped through the clusters of warmly-clad students prepared to brave the uncharacteristically chilly autumn, head held imperiously high and lips set in a thin line as James and Julia (obnoxious little coincidence of alliteration, she thought nastily) came into her line of sight. 

While James looked pleased to see her, Julia's face went through several swift changes of expressions before she settled on a tight smile and a bitter look in her onyx-black eyes. 

"Why, Lily – what are you doing here?" she asked frostily.

James turned to her. "I didn't tell you? I invited her to Hogsmeade with us to discuss the Halloween Feast, don't you remember?"

Julia's eyes trailed Lily's ill-fitting Muggle clothing and thick faded black cloak that had, to put it kindly, seen its share of Scottish winters. A contemptuous look tightened her pretty face. Lily tugged down on her scarf uneasily, suddenly self-conscious as she glanced at Julia's form-fitting navy robes. 

"I'm not sure she's dressed for it," said Julia, pursing her irritating, perfectly painted red lips.

Lily's nails dug into her fingers as she bit back a foul comment. "I can't come anyway. I have a project to finish. You go on," she said, making sure to address only James.

"I think that would be very wise -" Julia started. 

"You can finish the project later," said James, glancing sideways at the dark haired witch by his side. "Just come with us."

"Thank you, but I really do have to finish…"

"Why, my dear, I fear you're correct. For once I am in complete agreement with you," interrupted Julia, flashing her a saccharine smile.

"Must be the only time _you've_ been correct, then," Lily replied glibly.

James looked confusedly between the two girls. "Well…I…erm…"

"If you could perhaps articulate your thoughts?" Lily interrupted dryly.

He grinned apologetically at her. "What I was trying to say was I'd appreciate it if you'd come. I don't have much time, with Quidditch practice gearing up and all. I'd love to have you…"

He trailed off when Julia pointedly removed her arm from his. "Help me organize the Feast," he finished lamely. 

Lily suppressed a smirk. She wasn't about to relinquish an opportunity to taunt Julia, who seemed to have instituted an attitude of sweetness around James. How eerily like Petunia. 

"I suppose the project will have to wait," acquiesced Lily.

James beamed at her. "You have marvelous judgment, my love. Excellent sense of priorities."

The pretty witch beside him stiffened nearly audibly.

***

While Julia had insistently excluded Lily from conversation on the way to Hogsmeade, she was having a more difficult time keeping James' attention at the crowded Three Broomsticks. The pub was milling with students and residents of Hogsmeade alike, the din punctuated by outbursts of raucous laughter and glasses clinked together with all the dissonance of an untrained triangle player. 

The air itself seemed warm and sticky with butterbeer, but Lily continued to wrap her coat tightly around her body, trying to tell herself she would be cold with only the hand-knit Muggle jumper she wore underneath. It really was uncomfortably warm though, and she could feel the flush of her cheeks against her cold fingertips.

"So anyway, James, my father said he would arrange for a discount for students going to Gladrags so they could purchase costumes…James? Are you listening to me?" Julia looked at him with exasperation.

He grinned at her. "Sorry."

Julia folded her arms against her chest in an imitation of sternness that looked like Professor McGonagall. "Were you flirting with Madame Rosmerta again?" she asked with mock severity. "James, I need to know. Is there something between the two of you?"

"How did you know?" he exclaimed in horror. "I thought I'd been so careful. Yes, Julia darling, Rosmerta is the latest and greatest love of my life, and we are planning to elope to The Hogs Head so I can pretend I'm of age. Be gone from this table, for you wilt next to her blinding beauty!"

Julia sighed dramatically, collapsing against the worn seat, before erupting into laughter. James joined her soon enough, sliding his hand over hers as she leaned in to kiss him.

Lily stood up abruptly, muttering something to the effect of "refill" and pushed blindly through the crowds to the bar. She sat on one of the polished barstools and closed her eyes briefly, wondering why she had agreed to come. She should have known this was going to happen – there was no way she would have the upper hand in a conversation with someone like Julia, even with James in the vicinity. That probably made it worse. Nothing like being the third wheel.

"Miss Evans! What on earth are doing in a horrible place like this?"

Lily turned, surprised to see Arabella Figg, Ancient Runes professor and Slytherin Head of House, sitting next to her. She had been rather close to the professor during the few years she had taken the class, and had grown even more so in subsequent years, despite the House divisions – though the Slytherins still gave her strange looks when she walked around the dungeons. She noted with amusement that the cat-shaped brooch the professor wore on her cloak was moving, its tail swishing as it looked up at Lily. 

"I was supposed to come here to work on the Halloween Feast."

"And?"

"Well, the individual with whom I was supposed to be working is currently occupied with snogging, so I made a prudent exit."

Figg regarded her carefully, and Lily could see she was scanning the pub out of her peripheral vision. "James Potter and that girl?"  

Lily made a noncommittal noise.

"Name?"

"Julia Sanchez."

"She's a Sanchez?" exclaimed Figg. "No wonder she looks familiar."

Lily frowned. "What's so unusual about being a Sanchez?"

"They're one of the wealthiest families in Spain, and among the largest too. Children go to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, but mostly Hogwarts. Nearly all Hufflepuffs, but some would have made excellent Slytherins."

"Evidently she's one of them," said Lily unenthusiastically.

The professor kept a neutral look on her face. "Now why do you say that, dear?" 

"Well, she's not exactly the kindest person I know, but she's rather good at knowing what one's weaknesses are."

The older woman tactfully refrained from asking just what those weaknesses were, Lily noted with gratitude.

 "That doesn't make her a Slytherin," said Figg. "Hufflepuffs aren't the kindest people to those outside their house, whatever that blasted Hat of Godric's says. Gryffindors have no sense of judgment." She shook her head. "Present company excluded, naturally," she added. "You would have done rather well in Slytherin, you know. My serpents would have ripped you up and built you back from the ground of course, but it's a learning process."

Lily laughed skeptically. "Me – a Slytherin? Professor, I don't even exhibit any qualities particular to my own House."

"Codswallop," she replied. "Perhaps you don't possess the idiocy of most members of your House, but you're generally brave and chivalrous and that nonsense. Mind you, I don't consider that an advantageous quality. The Potter boy isn't bad either, but his friends will be the death of him."

Lily was quiet. "Perhaps you're right." She glanced up at the other woman. "But aren't the requisite qualities of a Slytherin ambition and cunning? I don't exactly possess those either."

Figg laughed. "You actually expect me to believe that? Beneath that ridiculous predilection of yours towards self-pity, you're one of the shrewdest people I know. Being a Slytherin isn't just about blatant, bloodthirsty ambition, contrary to the sensationalist perceptions of Gryffindors. Most Slytherins are quiet, observant, and rise to the top in a dagger-between-the ribs sort of way. It's all about subtlety, my dear."

She glanced up at her professor, taken aback by the blunt candor in her eyes.

Figg wasn't finished. "I'm not supposed to say this sort of thing to you, but I've already had a few shots of firewhisky, and as far as I'm concerned, you're not one of those imbecilic children I teach. I was to one who recommended to Albus that you take the position of Head Girl. Of course, he agreed with me straightaway, but the faculty required a bit more… persuasion - to think they were contemplating the Sanchez girl." She sniffed haughtily. "Might as well have put Sirius Black in the position of Head Boy." 

Lily grinned at her. "Nice to look at, but nothing special?" 

"Precisely. Not that you don't share the former quality," Figg teased. She sobered though, and continued, "Albus Dumbledore has complete faith in you, Miss Evans. That's a rare thing. He told me once, and I agree, that you indeed _are_ rare, my dear. The only thing standing in your way to greatness is doubt. Trust in your own abilities, your own power, and you would be able to prevail over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself."

 They looked at each other for a long moment, the clamor around them muted and distant. 

"But that's just the nonsense of an old woman," said Figg briskly, breaking the spell. She smiled. "Now tell me why you're moping. Oh, come now, you didn't think I'd notice you were moping? You've got a sullen look on that pretty face of yours."

"I told you already," said Lily, sighing with exasperation. She realized her impertinence a moment too late. "I mean – I apologize, Professor," she said hastily.

Figg smirked. "That's what I mean when I said they'd have ripped you right up. You're lucky I find you charming. Go on, though."

Lily swallowed deeply. "They're, well…engaging in activities generally limited to two persons of mutual attraction, and I'm rather – how do I say this – superfluous?"

"Do you fancy Potter?" Figg asked nonchalantly.

Lily flushed hotly. "No! How on earth did you conjecture _that?" _

She glanced at Lily with amusement.

She exhaled, looking hopelessly back at the woman. "From my reaction," said Lily dourly. "Never be overly vociferous in denial."

"You learn quickly," Figg said with a smile. "I'll tell you how to make him feel as guilty as possible in order to make him do the work for the Feast." The cat brooch attached to her cloak hissed enthusiastically in agreement. Figg's keen eyes regarded her for another moment. "There's something else." It was a statement, not a question. 

Lily nodded.

Figg passed her the shot glass of firewhisky.

"I can't -" Lily started, but the other woman silenced her with a look. She picked up the glass and gingerly sipped from it, sputtering as it burned down her throat and into her stomach. "That's not Ogden's," she coughed out.

"Ogden's is among the cheapest malts you can buy, Miss Evans. I always know when my students have been drinking with other houses because they come back smelling like a Muggle liquor store. Most Slytherin families have the decency to purchase good alcohol, even if their children haven't yet acquired the same discrepancy of taste."

"It's good. The whisky, I mean."

"Have the rest," she said, passing the glass over. 

It burned again as she swallowed it, but pleasurably. Lily licked her lips and began, "The girl James is with – Julia – is among the more well-liked students in our year. She's the type who celebrates with her house, cheers at Quidditch matches - "

"Doesn't sound unusual."

Lily sighed. "It's not, I suppose. But I was assigned to do a Charms project with her and she was invariably late to our meetings. Last night I had reached the end of my rope, and I yelled at her."

"_You yelled?" Figg looked impressed._

She shrugged. "I wasn't in a normal frame of mind. Anyway, I made some veiled disparaging remarks and she retaliated…much more harshly than I had expected." Her voice fell. "Said that I was useless, a hypocrite…" she trailed off.

Figg waited patiently for her to continue. Lily took a deep breath, grateful for the uncharacteristic consideration. "She called me - " her voice broke slightly " – a naïve little Muggleborn…the implication of _mudblood wasn't too hard to notice."_

The professor's eyes hardened. "I didn't know the Sanchez family were teaching their children bigotry. I've come to half-expect it in my House…" She suddenly looked saddened – disappointed and much older than her years. She composed herself quickly, though, and continued, "But every Sanchez I've known has been sympathetic towards Muggleborns. How can we expect the attacks to stop when more and more people are becoming so prejudiced?"

"You talk about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named quite a bit," said Lily quietly. "Most professors are pretending he doesn't exist."

Figg looked angry for a moment. "Do they think sheltering children is going to save them? The walls of Hogwarts may be a fortress, but they're also a blindfold. Because there will be more attacks. _He is growing in power, claiming new followers even within our walls. I worry for them - for the people he preys upon, and for the people he wants to make predators. Don't they realize? It's Grindelwald all over again. They can't have forgotten him - I will not believe we are deluding ourselves…We should not – _cannot_ – ignore him."_

The professor looked wearily at Lily. "And it's only just begun."

*****

(Author's Note: As my other two betas went AWOL, all the credit for this chapter goes to Shadow Fire, who is blessed enough to be both gorgeous, brilliant and a superb beta. Also, those of you who have reviewed – thank you so much. It always brightens my day to hear your opinions, whether criticism of praise. You motivate me. Along that note, sorry for the massive delay. And if you're wondering if Lily seems a bit more self-assured in this chapter, it is due to the fact that I'm editing the preceding chapters to tone down Lily's characterization. Once again, much appreciation for my reviewers and my readers.) 


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